


Where the Blackberries Grow

by Cat42103



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Dark, Happy Ending, Legends, M/M, Urban Legends, as in language that no one actually uses to speak, by that i mean written like a legend/fairy tale, maybe? - Freeform, some dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28485966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat42103/pseuds/Cat42103
Summary: Nestled in a valley atop a snowy mountain, the village Konoha resides. Those who enter rarely leave, for the trek is long and dangerous.No one really knows for sure why people chose to settle there, because the forests and streams were rife with demons and yōkai. Those who do choose Konoha are raised on legends of the beasts of the forests, all evil, all monstrous.And if one little boy is a container for a yōkai, how is a village grown on prejudice supposed to react?And if such a little boy goes missing, who is there to care?
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Umino Iruka, Hatake Kakashi & Uzumaki Naruko, Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka, Umino Iruka & Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 4
Kudos: 68





	Where the Blackberries Grow

**Author's Note:**

> As I said in the tags, it's written like a legend or old fairy tale, so the phrasing is like it would be then. For example, using "for" as a synonym for "because." I'm not sure if people still do that, but it's definitely not as common.
> 
> I used the Okuri Inu (http://yokai.com/okuriinu/) as a base for one of the characters, but I took creative liberty.
> 
> Yes, I did change the title. It's not any better than it was, but it is what it is.

Nestled in a valley atop a snowy mountain, the village Konoha resides. Those who enter rarely leave, for the trek is long and dangerous.

The surrounding terrain is rocky and uncertain, traveling made more difficult by the snow constantly concealing obstacles.

No one really knows for sure why people chose to settle there, for the forests and streams were rife with demons and yōkai. Those who do choose Konoha are raised on legends of the beasts of the forests, all evil, all monstrous.

It doesn’t matter that some are only mischievous, that some are defending themselves.

They are powerful, and power breeds fear. Fear is left in the dark, to mature and to grow, but never addressed. Fear turns into anger and sorrow and jealousy, wrapping and twisting into an emotion that might resemble hate if only there was something to direct it at.

The people placed shrines in the mountains and throughout the territory, so they would have a place to remain safe if they were caught outside of the village with yōkai.

The creatures spotted were reported and summoned mobs of villagers, holding pitchforks and seals. No one had actually seen one in broad daylight, leaving only rumors of tall shadows and sickness for the people to fret over.

The only yōkai captured was a nine-tailed fox. They had hunted it for years, and were sufficiently prepared to seal the beast. A random child at an orphanage was chosen.

All the adults were too important to sacrifice.

The babe had three whiskers on each cheek, bearing small fangs that resembled the fox inside him.

The hunters planned to throw him into an icy river, watch him freeze and call good riddance.

But the leader of the small village stopped them, shaking his head at their foolishness.

“The demon will escape as soon as the boy dies. We do not know if the seal will hold for that long, either. Our community shall have to watch over him, think of it as protecting ourselves from future attacks.”

The hunters agreed reluctantly, leaving the child with the matron in the orphanage where he had come. The woman was shocked at such a creature being allowed back into the town, dropping the boy in disgust.

While the men and women on the trip rejoiced, the small boy they had abandoned lay on the floor, crying.

* * *

The Hokage declared that no one speak of what transpired, so it was whispered. Everything the boy drew was scornful.

The village knew the yōkai, knew how they could walk in your dreams and steal your breath, knew how they could devastate lands and murder innocents.

The boy yelled for attention.

_“I can hear the rage and evil in his voice!”_

He nearly froze in the streets, begging for a coat or hat.

_“If he weren’t so heartless, he wouldn’t be cold.”_

He smiled as he sheltered a mouse from the storm.

_“That freak has no right to smile after what he did!”_

He lived.

_“It’s his fault.”_

The Hokage ignored the hissed comments and hateful stares. He had decided Naruto was going to be a normal child.

The boy had tousled blond hair and wide, blue eyes that contained whole worlds in their depths.

He was treated poorly and rejected, but the village wasn’t rotten.

The spiteful and the overlooked had a target, and that made all the difference. Those who had been raised on legends of yōkai were now raised on stories of the boy and his sins.

The abuse was there, but casual ire was more common. Merely a passing comment, to let out their aggression without feeling guilty. But offhanded barbs came from everyone, everyday.

They wore down his heart until it was chipped and broken.

Good men would think of a blond boy beaten in the streets, and they would hesitate. But then they would think of their family to feed and their work to do, and carry on.

They would think, _‘Who am I to offer salvation to someone who doesn’t deserve to be saved?’_

And walk home. Average people didn’t have time to think about a yōkai.

* * *

As Naruto grew, he smiled. He smiled, and smiled, and smiled. Smiled so much you could almost tell that it was fake, almost a habit.

But then you would see his face, see his whiskers and teeth. And you wouldn’t wonder why the boy grinned when he had nothing to grin about, you would sneer at the audacity.

He attended the academy, and the children didn’t revile him. He was just another child in the classroom.

But their teachers looked upon him with narrowed eyes and scoffed at his questions. The students copied them until Naruto was as rejected at school as everywhere else.

One teacher, with a temper like fire and the patience of fate, loathed the boy, for a yōkai had killed his parents.

But everyday he passed the park, and saw the lonesome child drifting on a swing. Surrounded by families, by what he didn’t have, as tears fell down his cheeks.

His limbs were fragile as a newborn fawn, the dirt and cold weathering him until he fit the part of ‘ _outcast_ ’ so very well.

And Iruka’s heart broke a little.

Was it only a decade ago when he himself had sobbed for the happiness everyone else got to live, when he cursed all who ignored him in the streets?

He didn’t see a monster, he saw a little boy. And then, Iruka wanted nothing more than to hug him. Sweep him up in his arms and hide him from the world.

As he taught the boy, he grew to cherish him. On moonlit nights, he brought food and water, stroking the boy’s hair. Naruto practically lived with Iruka, the only thing preventing them was the backlash from the village.

Even though they were not allowed to live together, the teacher would clutch him to his chest and kiss his forehead every night.

The child endeared himself to the man, and Iruka felt all the regret and guilt of his actions. He played and nurtured him as he grew, and he knew that the little boy was family.

* * *

Naruto was ten, and he lived, so he was hated. He would graduate from the academy soon, and that got the people to talk. The fox would be free, allowed to leave the village. The very same hunters who captured the demon were the most outraged.

So, one night, they plotted.

“We shall leave him in the mountains and retrieve him tomorrow. He will freeze to death or be killed, and it will seem an accident.”

The group agreed, retrieving their axes and packs. It was evening, and no one was outside to notice the boy being struck in the head and packed away.

No one but the teacher.

Iruka knew he could not overpower the group, and followed from a distance, heart in his throat the whole way. The unconscious child was thrown into the snow, and they left him there.

Snowflakes clung to his lashes, trailing down his face like tears as they melted. They tracked down his cheeks, cleaning lines in the dirt caked upon him.

Iruka quickly picked up the boy on the ground, wiping the water drops away tenderly. He was aware of how hated the boy was, and couldn’t bring him back to the village, for he would be killed.

Naruto could not return, but neither could the teacher leave him to die. He had class in the morning, so he turned to the container.

“Walk towards the sunset until you see the line of trees at the beginning of the Whispering Woods. You must turn left and travel up the second hill you see. There will be a shrine to protect you from yōkai, I promise to visit and bring you food everyday.”

The child was groggy from sleep, but he nodded. With a heavy heart and a lump in his throat,

Iruka kissed his forehead and sent him off.

While the hunters celebrated the next day, the teacher thought of the young boy he came to care for. As soon as school was done, he would march up to the shrine to pay his respects and give Naruto some food.

He was isolated and lonely, restless in the restricted grounds of the dilapidated structure. Iruka’s money was running out, and he couldn’t afford to live as comfortably as he once had.

They were hungry, cold, and scared, but the man would rather this than Naruto be left for dead.

Naruto lived in the shrine for almost a month, but his loneliness grew. He noticed how thin Iruka was getting even as he gave food to him. He was never to leave the grounds, _‘For your own protection,’_ the teacher had warned, but he left anyway.

He wasn’t sure if he left to gather his own food and save Iruka the trouble of getting him some, or to cure his wanderlust. Maybe he left in the hopes that he wouldn’t come back, and his only family would not be burdened with him.

Naruto had a small pack swung over his shoulder, storing what little food and possessions he had in it.

* * *

As he marched into the woods, afternoon melted to evening. The trees loomed above him, their spindly fingers tangling together in snarls and knots. As he traveled on the trodden dirt path, he heard the _‘chi, chi, chi’_ of the Yosuzume.

The bird yōkai’s song was a warning, telling him that an Okuri Inu was following him. Despite being an outcast, even Naruto had heard the tales of the beasts in the forest.

The Okuri Inu would follow those on their journey, their name meaning sending-off dog, and you should thank them once you reach your destination. However, if you were to trip and stumble on the path, the canine yōkai would pounce and tear you apart.

Naruto shivered, the _pat_ , _pat_ , _pat_ of paws behind him. He tried to glance back without moving his head, hands shaking and knees weak. He could hear it panting, could feel the hot breath on his skin as its teeth pricked his skin.

He sped up his pace, eyes focused on a clearing ahead. But in his panic, Naruto stumbled.

He landed hard on the packed earth, dirt and snow staining his knees and forearms. His breath came fast, tears pricking painfully in his despair. He scrabbled forward, finally turning back to look the Okuri Inu in the eye.

The creature was gray, thick fur covering its form. It was larger than a normal wolf, mouth lolling open to display sharp teeth.

Naruto closed his eyes, curling into a ball. His fear was cloying, making him choke and sputter as he hyperventilated. Fur brushed against him and he screamed.

But after a minute, the boy was not torn to shreds, rather the yōkai sniffed him. Its dark gray eyes watched him curiously, filled with an intelligence no animal had.

Naruto didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Even as the animal didn’t kill him, he was frozen.

 _‘Maybe a demon recognizes a demon,_ ’ he thought.

He blinked, and there was no longer the form of a wolf over him, but a man. Spiky gray hair fell over his face, the fringe almost concealing his eyes. A traditional silver kimono was draped over him, accents of black drawing Naruto’s gaze.

The man smiled, fangs gleaming in the light as he tilted his head.

“My, my, child, I’ve been looking for you. When your parents died, I thought it best to give you a human life like your father, but the fox inside you has become a part of you. They rejected you, and I cannot stand to let you live there longer.”

A claw tipped hand reached out for the boy, and he cried out again. But the yōkai merely picked up the child and settled him on his hip.

They slipped through the trees, shadows twisting and slitted gazes narrowing.

Naruto clung to the man, forgetting his earlier fear. The Okuri Inu moved with lethal grace, jumping and slipping in the near darkness. The boy’s sobs had vanished now that there was no immediate threat, and he stared into the night with wide eyes. With the soothing movement of the yōkai he gripped, Naruto’s eyes drooped and his head fell upon his shoulder.

When he woke up, he found himself in a cave, curled up on a pile of animal pelts. The yōkai soothed him once he began to panic, giving him water to drink and meat to eat.  
The boy was still wary of the Okuri Inu, and the man mourned for how differently he could’ve turned out.

The creature hoisted Naruto on his lap, weaving stories of a man who fell in love with a yōkai. Of a human with blond hair and ocean eyes, a demon with fiery red hair, and the child they had. Of hunters calling their love an abomination, killing them and spreading tales of their deceit.

The boy was only ten, but he watched his hands move as he told the story intently.

“I am Kakashi, and your mother and father took care of me. I promised I would take care of you in turn, but I failed.” His eyes were focused on the child on his lap, smile small and sad.

Naruto didn’t know Kakashi, but the man was kind, like Iruka. He wrapped his thin arms around the Okuri Inu’s kimono and pelts.

The man clutched him to his chest, letting them sit there as the storm rolled outside.

* * *

Kakashi did his best to gain the trust of the boy, holding his hand as they walked and cradling him as they slept. He dressed Naruto in expensive fabrics and a crown of leaves, carrying him on his back.

The child rode on the back of the white wolf, eyes alight with laughter. He didn’t know Kakashi, was even afraid of him, but the kinship of two monsters, forever scorned and spit upon, is stronger than fear.

The Okuri Inu was a trickster, forever calm and lazy, but could kill in a heartbeat. The caring for the child was merely an obligation, nothing more. But as he handled his temper tantrums and joy, his loneliness and smile, Kakashi poured every ounce of his black soul into raising him.

Naruto would run with the white wolf, eyes growing slitted and teeth pointed.

“You are your mother’s son,” Kakashi would whisper, eternally close and loving as he was distant and cold.

Naruto missed his old teacher and for the comfort he had, but thoughts of the village drew thoughts of the tales of yōkai.

He asked one night, “I feel safe with you, but I am not sure if I should. The yōkai are the beasts that kill the hero in stories, how do I know you will spare me?”

Kakashi’s face crinkled in an amused smile, lips curled with the mocking edge it always had. “But there are many characters in the story, no? My, my, it’s your decision which one you will be.”

His guardian took him to see Iruka at the shrine he had left, watching as he prayed. Naruto was glad to see how healthy the teacher was, less so to see the bags under his eyes.

One day, he could stand it no longer and rushed to him. “Why are you not taking care of yourself, I left so you would not wither away as you have!”

Iruka quickly welcomed the boy, but scolded him within an inch of his life. “How did you survive out there?”

Kakashi tilted his head as he watched, calling, “He ran into my care, sensei, was I just to leave him to die?”

Naruto between them, the creature teased and mocked the human mercilessly. He skirted around the shrine, unable to actually step foot there.

The teacher snarled, his temper flaring like a flame. He snapped and hissed at the yōkai, his fury not bowing to reason.

As he finished his tirade, face blotchy and brows furrowed, Kakashi threw his head back and laughed.

This human looked the picture of a nature spirit, skin the color of earth and uncut hair, but was so far from their calm countenance.

Iruka only grew more irate at the sound, demanding that Naruto return with him. The yōkai’s smile did not slip, and his eyes gleamed with curiosity.

“You can visit him if you want, but you must travel to the heart of the woods, where us demons run unchecked.” Kakashi spoke softly, making the other walk closer to hear. He bared his teeth in a menacing grin, “I am never letting him go, you see. We wolves are...” he exhaled, lazily eyeing this fascinating new plaything, “ _very_ territorial.”

And so the two returned to the cave, Naruto extolling every positive trait his previous caretaker had.

Kakashi hummed, only half listening. Every person in his pack had been killed, ripped away viciously. He was sensible, but he was also selfish. He stowed away everything that was his, every spare token or favour in his cave to protect them.

But Naruto was to be a part of his new pack, and that was a dangerous thing, for he was the one person Kakashi coveted.

There were those who would love to kill what a yōkai coveted.

* * *

The bond of two monsters is hammered in a forge of longing, rage, and desperation. Only from there can it grow.

Their kinship is strong, stronger than their differences, but fear more what can break them, because a monster to a monster is called a good man.

* * *

Iruka came.

Entered the cave with biting words and a pack of baked goods. Naruto rejoiced at the prospect of his favourite person returning to him.

The teacher was smart, and was weary of who had taken the boy in. But he persevered. He knew he should run, satisfy himself with the knowledge that Naruto was okay, but the yōkai made him pause.

His patronizing tone made his blood boil, the dismissive gestures getting under his skin. Iruka was a smart man, and he knew that his favour would not last long.

But he milked it for all it was worth.

He taught Naruto the curriculum he had missed, slipping in his own native language as part of his teachings. His distrust of Kakashi was palpable, and he shot glares whenever the boy wasn’t looking.

But there were softer moments, ones where the Okuri Inu held a pastry over his head as Naruto leaped for it. The child whined and complained, but the other only lifted it higher with a genuine expression of joy.

And Iruka thought of a young boy on a swing set who was feared, and his perspective changed.

People fear what they don’t understand, but Iruka thought he understood a bit of Kakashi just then.

He rarely spent time in the village, or at least less time than usual. Every other day after school, he would climb to the cave. What held him to Konoha weakened, his acceptance of yōkai making the villager’s resistance all the more damning in his eyes.

Kakashi toyed with him, provoking him, taunting him, and playing up his reputation. But it only stoked Iruka’s vicious nature. Iron-willed and silver tongued, the teacher would not bend.

Kakashi let him into the group, their pair now a unit of three. He was steadily building his pack, claiming each precious person one by one.

They were both his to protect and keep, but he knew that should Iruka not want to be kept, the man would let him know.

Somehow that made his victory sweeter.

* * *

Naruto hunted with the Okuri Inu, becoming silent and deadly to the prey he found. He wore a necklace of teeth and beads, becoming wilder than the forest around him.

He was cared for by Iruka and Kakashi, nurtured until he loved and hated and feared and treasured with everything he had. Foxes and wolves weren’t that different, and they merged seamlessly together.

They had the same fierceness about them, both predators in a world full of prey.

Iruka still left in the night for the village, even as he hated to part with his family. He read the children fairy tales from a storybook, most about the yōkai in the forest. But as the brave hero struck down the evil kitsune, the teacher’s voice faltered.

The students gasped and applauded, cheering for the brave man who struck down the beast. Iruka hated those days.

Where the “villain” was under the blade and all he could imagine was Naruto or Kakashi in their place. The more he looked, the more he found.

Biased sources and skewed perspectives written down in every book, garish paintings with exaggerated replicas of the creatures.

Let it be known that Iruka Umino was not a flighty man.

Everything the village was built on was airtight, a towering mountain of lies that had no chinks, no witnesses to say otherwise. But such a tall tower had to fall eventually.

And Iruka mourned. Mourned for the way Konoha had drawn everyone in and deceived them, knowing how the yōkai would suffer under that perspective.

As months passed, he felt more and more disjointed from the village. Parents eyed him, suspicious of the change he had gone through.

But Iruka was confined in the village. Whenever he wasn’t teaching, he was in the forest.

He had long since stopped fearing the yōkai, for no one wanted Kakashi as an enemy. He grew poison in his garden, right next to the tea leaves.

“It makes the morning exciting, don’t you agree?” Iruka would murmur, because you can’t live with an Okuri Inu and not expect to go a little mad.

The village would whisper, would watch him with undisguised wariness. A dependable teacher’s personality had shifted, and they were now in uncertain territory. One morning, he came into school barefoot with windblown hair.

That got them talking.

“It’s a yōkai, he’s possessed!”

“They’ve stolen his soul.”

“They’ve carved out his brain.”

The hissed comments and spiteful words followed him, but Iruka straightened his spine. Naruto had suffered much worse and come out stronger.

The all ready cold nights grew even colder, and the storms and snow abounded. As the days grew shorter and nights grew longer, the divide between Iruka and Konoha increased.

* * *

This would be the part where the naive schoolteacher is lured into the forest by the evil creatures, killed or tortured or turned. Where the citizens are grief stricken and wailing, another life claimed by the forest.

Where they mourn as if they actually cared, as if they hadn’t created that divide in the first place.

As if they hadn’t cursed his name once the rumors started, like they were innocent.

But when Iruka left for the forest, it was with steel in his eyes and hope in his chest. He joined them in their cave on a hill as night fell, hearts hardened from Konoha’s prejudice and willingness to overlook.

When someone is rejected, beaten down, taken apart inch by painstaking inch by the very system that was meant to protect them, there is a certainty.

When that pain consumes their whole life, told who they will be or not be with a kick punctuating each statement, there is a choice.

For if you are told you are useless, monstrous, not even human, there are only two options.

Prove them wrong, or make them wish they were wrong.

* * *

And the white wolf howled to the full moon, because he knew that he had won. While the people prayed, as they did every night, for safety from the demons outside, the pack of three traveled to the highest mountain.

Kakashi sewed Iruka’s soul, with bone needle and metal thread, to a tall Bristlecone Pine tree. His lifeforce grew as twisted as the tree, tethered together until one could outlast the other. The tree was watered with dove’s tears and serpent’s blood, kept as it grew tall and strong.

The Okuri Inu kissed him under the stars and tucked a rose behind his ear, the thorns drawing blood. Iruka’s hair was wild and tangled, no longer bound in a tight hair tie.

They ran, sometimes human and sometimes other, with a gleam of madness in their eyes. Naruto danced in the rain and laughed in the snow, a bloodied smile on his lips and a crown of rot upon his brow.

In the Whispering Woods they haunt and hunt, feasting on the hearts of men time and again.

You see them when they want you to, when you curse their family or ruin their name. When you sit too long by a Bristlecone Pine, a saw in your hand and an axe by your side.

If you talk of revenge with a gleam in your eye and hatred in your heart, or if you drift too close to a cave strung with icicles and bones.

These are the tales that are told, but it is those that are not that scare the most. There are no stories of gaining a boon from such a family, of their powers and skills. No legends of traveling into the forest or battling the creatures, no scars to show of encounters.

Konoha whispers, _Are they that good at hiding, or that good at killing? Did that man really move away, or is he strung up in the trees with a hole through his chest?_

And life goes on. Just another yōkai to fear, another warning to heed.

But a young boy with raven hair and onyx eyes lives in the village, his gaze cold and distant. No family, no friends, just the weight of a murderous brother on his back.

The sting of rejection, of loneliness, of sorrow, swirls around him in waves, but no one cares. The village has nothing for him, and he has nothing for the village.

And he will run into the forest one day, seeking for a way to escape, to regain what was lost. He will follow the path in the woods, hear the Okuri Inu at his back, and turn with burning rage and fragile resignation.

He will see a pale wolf, fur silvery in the dim light, gazing at him with an intelligence no animal has.

For the wolf has a pack at home, a man with sharp wit and infinite patience and a child with strong will and fierce passion, and loves them enough to kill.

And as the last Uchiha stares, the demon will tilt his head and whisper, in a voice otherworldly and lilting, “My, my, child, I’ve been looking for you.”

* * *

Nestled in a valley atop a snowy mountain, the village Konoha resides. Those who enter rarely leave, for the trek is long and dangerous.

But even as years will pass and the people will not go, Konoha will never belong.

No one really knows for sure why people chose to settle there, because no matter how they lie, no matter what they believe, the yōkai were there first.

No matter the villages they build and the mountains they carve.

No matter the land that they claim and the land that they destroy.

The yōkai were there first.

And there they will stay.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been lurking in my drafts for almost a month, so I didn't want it deleted. This hasn't stopped my writing on my other piece, so don't worry.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
